Pain
by brothermine
Summary: Five times Sherlock was in pain, and the one time he wasn't...(complete)
1. Chapter 1

**Pain **

**Chapter 1 Dogs are Barking.**

**Yes here I am with yet another new story! What can I saw Sherlock is just too addictive to leave alone. I am jumping onto the band wagon of the 'five times...and the one time...' framework but I love those stories and these series of stories I've had in my mind fit the framework perfectly! As always i'd love to hear your thoughts so please leave me a review! Thank you!**

**Disclaimer**

**Sadly it's not mine but I did have lunch in Speedys! That counts for something right?**

John first noticed there was something wrong when they walked with Lestrade to the station but he knew better than to say anything to him. He tried to watch him surreptitiously but he couldn't have chose a worse person to do this with. He stood trying to watch Sherlock as he reeled off weather reports from his phone to show why as usual Scotland Yard's theory was wrong when he felt a text come through. He sighed slightly as he tried to pull his phone out so he could read it hoping Sherlock wouldn't notice. The last thing he needed was a lecture from the detective about loosing focus.

_'Stop staring at me it's annoying and focus.' _

He smiled slightly and bit back a laugh. What else did he expect from Sherlock? "If you both insist on invading our station the very least you could do is pay attention," Anderson complained.

"Sorry," John muttered blushing furiously as he shoved the phone back in his pocket ignoring the fleeting ice cold dagger from Sherlock.

He watched Sherlock as he moved slowly round the office itching to go after the suspect he had just proved was infact their man. "Can we go now, we're wasting time. Don't you do enough of that when i'm not here?" Sherlock complained.

"We've got to follow procedure Sherlock," Lestrade said turning back to the pile of papers before him causing Sherlock to huff in annoyance.

John watched him pace the room but it was different from his usual hurried impatient movements that he'd seen countless times in this room and else where. He movements seemed more jilted and guarded. Sherlock was definitely in pain but he couldn't work out what from. He seemed totally fine this morning but right now there was definitely something wrong

"Sherlock would you stay at peace. We will get this done a lot faster if you just stay at peace and let us finish," Lestrade snapped.

Sherlock sighed and muttered some derogatory comment under his breath that Lestrade chose to ignore. John watched him fidget impatiently by the door but the closer he watched him the clearer it became that he wasn't just fidgeting he was uncomfortable. He was steadily becoming more concerned as he made himself not watch Sherlock shift his weight almost painfully between his feet. On more than one occasion he saw his eyes flick towards the chair in the office but of course his pride and stubbornness would never allow him to sit down.

"Now we can go," Lestrade said at last as he set the paperwork on his desk.

"Finally," Sherlock said striding towards the door but John noticed he was still moving awkwardly clearly in some kind of pain and for a brief second when he was told he could go he looked almost loathed to have to move again.

00000

"Shit," Lestrade cursed as their suspect ran off the second they moved to arrest him. He refused to think of how they should have listened to Sherlock and not all approached at once but there was no way he was letting Sherlock literally catch another criminal that was his job. He was sure there would be plenty of time later for Sherlock to point out the error of his ways.

"God sake," Sherlock muttered taking off after him but for once John was easily able to keep up with him. Sherlock was now very clearly limping and struggling to even near the speed he needed to catch the guy they could see ahead. "Got your gun? He asked John quickly.

"Yeah," John said warily.

"You're a good shot, make yourself useful and use it," he hissed as they still made after the guy their pace slowing dramatically as Sherlock appeared to having difficultly walking never mind running after a criminal.

"What the hell is going on?" Lestrade yelled catching up to him.

"John is about to catch you your criminal," Sherlock said dully.

"What?" Lestrade demanded as John shot at the man grazing his leg so not to severely injure him but enough to knock him off his feet to allow Lestrade and his team to arrest him.

"I believe our work here is done lets go John," Sherlock said leaving Lestrade and his team staring after them in shock.

"Sherlock, why are you looking for a cab? We are about ten minutes from home. It will be faster to just walk," John pointed out.

"We're getting a taxi, well I am, you can walk if you want," Sherlock said letting out an almost inaudible sigh of relief as he was able to stop a taxi.

"For God sake," John muttered climbing in after Sherlock.

"Baker Street," Sherlock said ignoring the driver's inquisitive look at the short journey before shrugging and driving off.

"You going to tell me what's going on yet?" John asked quietly.

"Nothing is going on," Sherlock said as he paid the driver waiting for John to get out before following behind.

Sherlock slightly before climbing the stairs. Letting out yet another sigh, this time of relief when he got to their door. John was starting to seriously worry.

Sherlock got into the flat standing in their hall pulling off his shoes gasping with the relief it brought. "Damn shoes," he muttered hobbling into his room for his slippers.

He could hear John's laughter from the living room as he at last understood. "So that's what all that was about, you had sore feet?" John asked through his giggles.

"Yes from the new shoes I had to buy after my last pair got ruined chasing Bob Thomas through that field should get at least an additional two years for the inconvenience this caused me," he muttered.

"You are an idiot. You wore new shoes when you knew we could be walking and running a lot without breaking them in? Honestly for a bright man you can be incredibly thick at times," he said watching Sherlock limp into the living room before flopping down on the couch.

"Not got time for that," he snapped.

"You don't have time for sore feet either," John pointed out with a smirk.

"Shut up!" Sherlock snapped.

"Still at least one good thing came from this," John mused.

"What?" Sherlock demanded.

"They are definitely broken in now so they will be dead comfy from now on," John said dissolving again into giggles while Sherlock sighed and turned over on the couch.

"Dogs are barking? Seriously?" Sherlock demanded the next day as he saw the title for John's latest blog entry.

**If you get the joke from John's blog title let me know! I got the idea for this story from my latest trip to London where my feet were that sore from walking round London I had to buy a new pair of shoes!**


	2. Returning

**Chapter 2 Returning.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews please keep them coming they mean so much to me and I really like to know what you think and that you are reading. This chapter can be read as either friendship or johnlock, interpret how you like! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer**

**Sadly it's still not mine!**

Pain - _Highly unpleasant physical sensation caused by illness or injury._

Sherlock wasn't exactly a stranger to pain it came with what he did for a living. Not that he actively sought out pain, he was not that stupid no matter what John thought. John, the one who was always lecturing him to take better care of himself to eat and sleep more and stop taking such risks with his life. It was ironic that it was because of him that Sherlock suffered the most pain.

That sounded sappy and sentimental things Sherlock didn't have time for. That wasn't what this was it was simply a statement of fact and as usual a fact John Watson knew nothing about.

He didn't actively seek out pain but for John Watson he allowed things to happen that he knew would cause him pain. The thing he couldn't answer was why. It went against everything that he knew and was completely illogical yet still he did it and had done so on more than one occasion. He sighed slightly as words of a past conversation echoed through his mind.

"_Alone is what I have. Alone protects me."_

"_No. Friends protect people."_

In many ways as usual what he had said was right, alone did protect him. He would have been able to avoid many instances of pain if he had not been trying to protect John Watson However that by default meant that John was right, he had himself admitted to being John's friend and he had acted to protect him. An act he had to admit John had returned for him.

He tried to tell himself his actions were simply for his convenience. He quite liked having John around and he knew how hard it would be to find a new flatmate or anyone who would tolerate as much as John did. It was therefore for those reasons he did what he did for John...nothing more...though no matter how many times he told himself this he couldn't quite believe it.

That logic he could just and no more force his mind to accept before was totally shattered with the things he has done and the way things are since he came back. He tries to tell himself he was acting so not to lose John completely but he knew it wasn't true but why could he still not give an answer to why he do it.

He was forced to admit that John differentiated from all his logic and reasoning. He even made him feel pain that did not fit the definition of what he knew pain to be. The things he felt round John was not always physical it was not always something physically hurting therefore it could not be pain, yet somehow it was the only word that accurately described how it felt.

The way he felt when he found out John had moved out shocked him. He wasn't used to having people around him constantly never mind missing them and being upset at the prospect of them not being there. The most unsettling thing was realising that he had began to rely on John being there for him when he got back. He felt unsettled when he learned how John had built a new life without him and he faced losing him. The pain that thought caused him disturbed him. He was Sherlock Holmes he didn't need anyone so he didn't care but he did, he cared a lot. What was happening to him?

Why did he insist on constantly going against every fundamental reason he had for not letting people close to him? Surely the pain he had felt because of John was proof of that yet still he refused to let him go. What had John done to him?

He had allowed John to physically hurt him when he attacked him after finding out he had faked his death. His body was weak and sore from his treatment in Serbia yet he had allowed John to attack him and given no indication that it caused him pain or how much seeing the new life he had built with Mary hurt while all he had been focused on was getting back to the life he knew, a life he knew with John. He'd let him do it because he knew it was what John needed to do. He felt his life spiralling further away from what he knew as he fought desprately to get his control back.

He had pulled himself back from death because of John Watson. He had been seconds away from the freedom that death offered him from the agony of the bullet wound and the pain of losing John because he just simply couldn't or wouldn't see. He came back opening himself back up that pain because John needed him.

He knew John was different, he was worth the pain because he mattered, John Watson mattered. He had to protect him even if that meant feeling pain because he needed him in his life. He welcomed and needed the changes John had made in his life even if he wouldn't admit that to him.

He raised the gun to kill the person who was hurting and holding the key to destroying John At least he knew what he was doing, this was part of him that he knew and he knew why he was doing it he had to protect John and face the consequences.

"John, there's something...I should say. I I've meant to say always and then never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now." This was his chance if he was ever going to say it, now was the time...but as he looked at John and saw Mary, saw his future he saw something that he could never be so what was the point? He wouldn't want that really, it wasn't who he was, not really, not like that. "Sherlock is actually a girl's name," he said to diffuse the situation and see John smile at him. He knew what he was and what his life was but he also knew that some things or more specifically John Watson was worth the pain even if that was hard to believe as he let go of his hand and walked away.


	3. Ice

**Chapter 3 Ice**

**Thank you so much for all your reviews they mean so much to me! Please keep them coming I love to hear your thoughts!**

**Disclaimer**

**Sadly it's still not mine.**

Sherlock sighed slightly still wincing in pain. "Right, lets get to work we don't have much time," he said moving gingerly towards the deck.

"Oh come on. It can't be that bad can it?" Lestrade asked as he assessed Sherlock's careful movements.

"I'm fine now can we get to work," Sherlock said testily.

"Fine." Greg said passing him the file again trying to contain his smirk.

Sherlock took the files from him and read over them without speaking. He was very careful to avoid moving in anyway. The pain was getting stronger but he had to work past it, he didn't have time to focus on something as pointless as this.

"You sure you're alright? Sure I can't get you anything?" Greg pressed seeing he was clearly in pain.

"Stop acting like you care Lestrade. We both know you just want the case solved faster," he said icily.

"Greg. Why can't you ever just call me Greg?" he asked sighing.

"Greg? Why would I call you...oohhhh right your name Greg right," Sherlock said as comprehension dawned.

"Anyway, you any more ideas yet only we really do need a result on this one Sherlock."

"I'm working on it. I would have been a lot closer to an answer if things hadn't gone well, the way they did," he said in a displeased tone.

"Yeah well that's true but I mean what did you expect? Look it doesn't matter the point is we need a result here Sherlock," he pressed, a sense of urgency leaking into his voice.

"And i'm getting you one, something I would be able to do much faster if you would kindly shut up," he snapped.

"Look Sherlock mate you sure I can't get you anything you look like you are in a lot of pain?" Lestrade asked after a long hour passed of trying to work but seeing Sherlock in evident discomfort no matter how much he tried to hide it.

"For God sake I can't concentrate in here. I'll call you when I solve it," he said standing slowly.

"Okay...you sure..." he began.

"Shut up!" he snapped moving carefully out of the office. "Out of my way," he near snarled at Donovan who entered the room as he was leaving.

"What's wrong with the freak?" she asked Greg.

"Don't ask," he said shaking his head wearily.

SHSHSH

"Jesus Sherlock what's wrong?" John asked urgently as he came home later that night to find Sherlock hunched over in his chair in clear agony.

"I'm fine, leave me alone I've work to do," he said through gritted teeth as his eyes flitted briefly to the pile of papers on the table in front of him.

"You are clearly not alright. Tell me what's wrong," John said moving closer to him.

"Doesn't matter John just leave me alone," he said evenly.

"I'm only trying to help Sherlock," he reminded.

"Nothing you can do," he said.

"So you always tell me but we know it's not always the case. Especially here. You are clearly in pain and I am a doctor, something I am able to help people with," he pointed out.

"Trust me you don't want to know, just leave me alone and I'll be fine," Sherlock said in a pain filled voice.

"Sherlock this is getting ridiculous will you just tell me what is going on," John said hours later as Sherlock made to stand up but winced in pain before lowering himself back onto his chair.

"Fine but don't laugh. I mean it do not laugh, I still have my gun near," he said meeting his eyes.

"Alright, lets keep the threats to a minimum shall we. I won't laugh now tell me what's wrong," he said.

"A client or a victim as Lestrade calls them kneed me, well you know..." he said glancing downwards for a second.

"They what? Why?" John asked struggling to contain his laughter.

"You know what they did that much is obvious and does not need to be spelt out. As for the why, I suppose it was because I suggested she cared more about her dog than her dead husband," he said with a careful shrug every movement cost him great pain.

"You said what? Jesus Sherlock what the hell were you thinking?" John demanded.

"I told her what I was thinking, turned out not to be her, it couldn't have been her but at that moment it was a possibility," he answered.

"You are unbelievable. No wonder she did that I can't blame her," John said shaking his head.

"That's what Lestrade said. She was more concerned about taking her dog for a walk than answering my questions so at the time it made me think she could have been responsible. Now can you actually help," he snapped.

"Yeah just try not to piss people off maybe this will serve as a helpful lesson oh and put some ice on it, John said throwing him a bag of frozen peas from the freezer.

"Useless as ever," Sherlock muttered.

"Or not," John uttered shaking his head.

"What?"

"Nothing," John said walking away. If this didn't teach Sherlock a much needed lesson he had no idea what would.


	4. Headache

**Headache**

**I am so sorry for the delay in this update life went crazy for a while! Thank you so much for your reviews please keep them coming they mean so much to me! Oh should mention this chapter also has implied johnlock. Oh I have reeently started Merlin and I am addicted! I am also a Merthur shipper! I am only half way through season one but i'm hooked!**

**Disclaimer**

**Sadly it's not mine**

"You okay?"

"No."

"What's wrong?" John asked concern evident in his voice.

"You asking me that for one thing," he snapped closing his eyes again.

"Why can't I ask you what's wrong when you tell me you're not okay?" John asked confused.

"That's not what I meant," he said with an edge to his voice.

"Then what did you mean?" he asked.

Sherlock sighed he really didn't feel up to this but as usual he couldn't help himself. He hated using the subway, it was too noisy and smelly. There were too many people in such a small enclosed space. It was a sensory overload, was it any wonder using the subway usually resulted in blinding headaches like the one currently coursing through his skull with sickening strength and resistance.

John had insisted they use the subway slightly more now to cut down what he referred to as 'unnecessary expenses.' Normally he would have put up more of a fight but John had already spent most of the morning complaining about how Sherlock's instant phonecalls the night before had ruined his date. He thought it best to give him what he wanted in how they got to the crime scene. John was much more useful when he wasn't in a huff. He felt he had shown great resistance in only pointing out how much faster a taxi would have been on only two occasions.

"Asking me if I am okay when you know i'm not. It is the very definition of a pointless questions as you always immediately follow it with 'what's wrong.' Why bother asking the first question at all? Why not leave it out and get directly to what you really want to ask?" he asked irritably.

"Fine, what's wrong?" John asked wondering yet again why Sherlock couldn't just answer a question like a normal person.

"Headache," he said curtly. He wanted this conversation to end so he could lie down for a while and attempt to get rid of it.

"Take some paracetamol then," John said.

"We're out."

"Then go buy some." he said wondering yet again how for such a smart guy he could be so astoundingly thick.

"No," he said shortly.

"Why not?"

He didn't want to say that he didn't want to go outside because his head simply hurt too much and he feared too much movement may make him vomit. The noises, smells and lights in the supermarket made the agony in his head surge just thinking about it. "Why does it matter?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"What do you mean?" he asked looking at Sherlock more closely.

"Why does it matter to you if I am okay or not?" Sherlock clarified.

"Because you are my friend and I care about you," he said.

"No."

"No?" John repeated.

It's not normal to care so much about how I am. You are no where near this concerned about any of your other friends. . So why do you care so much about me?" he asked.

John paused not quite sure what to say to that. He wanted to say that he cared because he was his best friend but something about Sherlock's words unsettled him. Why did he care so much? Why was he so perceptive to how Sherlock was? Sherlock was right, he did care and worry about him far more than he did about not just his friends but anybody.

Was it because he felt Sherlock didn't really have anybody to care for him? That was part of it but deep down he knew there was more to it but what was it? He mentally shook himself . He had to stop thinking about this, he couldn't think this way it wouldn't do any good and anyway there was nothing to think about."I'll go get you some paracetamol. Why don't you lie down for a bit?" John said quietly as he headed for the door.

"Mmmm," Sherlock said distantly watching John leave. What was the point? It was something they could never talk about. It was something that would have to remain unsaid. John was always so determined to argue the point they weren't a couple. His feelings on it were clear so what was the point in John doing things that occasionally gave him that agonizing slither of hope there could ever be anything more. He knew what John wanted, friends and that was it, it would never be anything more. He shut his eyes against the agony in his head hoping he hurried up with those paracetamol.


	5. Tackle

**Chapter 5 Tackle**

**I am so sorry for the delay in this chapter but I have spent the last few weeks preparing for an interview to study HNC Early Education and Childcare to allow me to work in a nursery and I am ecstatic to say that I got in! I hope that you are still enjoying this story can't believe there is only one chapter left after this one! As always please review and share your thoughts it means so much to me!**

**Disclaimer**

**I don't own Sherlock, i'm not that lucky!**

John knew it was bad as soon as he saw it. His fear was only confirmed by Sherlock's reaction to it. The only thing he didn't know at the moment was just how bad it was. It had been one of those things that happened so quickly that he had been powerless to stop it or do anything to help but it didn't make him feel any less guilty.

"Shit," Lestrade muttered cutting right to the heart of the situation when he realised what had happened.

"Sherlock mate let me have a look," John said quickly going into 'doctor mode.'

"Leave it John don't touch me," Sherlock said through gritted teeth as a grunt of pain passed his lips. Alarms bells instantly went off inside John's head. Sherlock always complained when John started to fuss over him and always insisted he was fine but not this time.

"Sherlock you need to let me look," John said firmly taking a stop closer to him.

"No I don't," Sherlock said evenly frowning as he failed to mask the pain in his voice.

"Stop being difficult Sherlock. You know you need to let me look at it, you can't leave it like that. So you either need to let me or another doctor look at it," John said.

Lestrade saw Sherlock looking at him he knew he wouldn't let John examine him while he was in the room. "Just let him do his job mate," he advised leaving the room shutting the door gently behind him and stood just down from it to ensure no one tried to get in.

"Sit down it will be easier for me to examine you," John said calmly. Sherlock looked like he wanted to argue but he was in too much pain so he complied which made John worry more. Sherlock sat down taking deep breaths trying to steady himself for the intense agony that would come the moment John touched him.

"I'll be as gentle as I can," John said reassuringly.

"I'm sure you will but it won't do much to stop the pain," he said curtly.

"I know," John said quietly. John carefully eased Sherlock's non injured arm out of his jacket and moved to help him carefully get the other arm out. "Okay nice and slow," John said in a calm voice as he made to ease the jacket off Sherlock. He was trying to think how he could get Sherlock to move his arm enough to let him get his suit jacket off.

"Don't," Sherlock said in a strained voice.

"Can you move your arm a little so I can have a look at your shoulder? I'll help you," John said quietly.

"I can't," Sherlock said after a strained silence.

"Okay Sherlock, we're going to have to get you to hospital so they can have a look at your shoulder," he said reaching for his phone to call an ambulance try not to worry that Sherlock nodded very slightly in agreement to his words.

"Who are you phoning?" Sherlock asked his voice thin with pain.

"An ambulance," John answered thinking it was rather obvious.

"No."

"Don't be stupid Sherlock. How else do you plan to get to the hospital?" John asked.

"Taxi," Sherlock answered.

"You can't get in a taxi like that!" John said.

"I can. I'm not getting an ambulance I don't want the fuss," he said urgently stress leaking into his voice at the thought.

"Alright I'll get Lestrade to drive us okay?" he bargained. It was unsettling to see Sherlock anything less than fully composed.

"Fine," Sherlock said eventually after considering his words.

The drive to the hospital was agonizing. Lestrade drove as slowly and carefully as possible but each bump and jerk of the car sent bolts of fresh agony through Sherlock's whole body which reached a sickening crescendo in his shoulder.

"Not far now," John said looking worriedly at him.

"Thanks for this Greg," John said when after what felt like an eternity they finally reached the hospital.

"No problem. Let me know how it goes," he said.

"Shut up Lestrade," Sherlock snapped as he mentally prepared himself to get out the car his stomach churning horribly with the pain.

With John's help they got out of the car and into the hospital. "Try not to piss off the hospital staff too much Sherlock, remember they are here to help you which is much easier for them and you when you aren't behaving like well, you," John advised.

"So what happened?" the doctor asked as he led them into an examination room.

"I fell and hurt my shoulder," Sherlock said plainly.

"How did you fall?" the Doctor asked to get a better indication of what happened.

"I was chasing a criminal and I tackled them at the top of a flight of stairs, falling down the stairs wasn't quite part of my plan," Sherlock answered wryly.

"So you're a police officer then, undercover I assume?" the doctor asked noting their lack of uniforms. John sighed inwardly as he awaited Sherlock's reaction to the doctor's assumption.

"Yes," Sherlock said curtly causing John to raise his eyebrows slightly in surprise. Sherlock was in too much pain to correct the doctor.

The doctor gave Sherlock some morphine and give it time to work before he gently cut away Sherlock's suit jacket and shirt so he could examine his shoulder. "Are you planning on reimbursing me for the damage you've done to my clothes?" he demanded.

"Sherlock!" John warned.

"I liked that shirt," Sherlock said looking at the ruins of his clothes on the bed next to him.

"Sorry sir it had to be done it was the only way I could gain access to the injury," the doctor said carefully.

An x-ray confirmed that Sherlock had broken his shoulder. The doctor got his arm into a sling and prescribed him painkillers saying he would see him again in a few weeks to check on his progress.

"Ready to go?" John asked Sherlock as he came back into the room.

"No," he said darkly.

"Why not, what' wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Do you really expect me to leave this hospital without a shirt or jacket and I am not wearing a hospital gown," Sherlock responded bitterly.

John stifled a laugh and told Sherlock to wait in the hospital and he would go back to the flat to find him something to wear. As he was leaving the hospital room he told Sherlock that he may begin to regret the tight fitting shirts he was so fond of.


	6. Bandage

**Chapter 6 Bandage.**

**Here it is the final chapter! I have to say I had a lot of fun writing this series! As always thank you for the reviews and please keep them coming it really means a lot to me to know what you think and to know that you have been reading this.**

**Disclaimer**

**Sadly I still don't own Sherlock!**

John sighed and turned the television up again in a vain attempt to actually watch it and drown out whatever it was Sherlock was doing that was making so much noise.

"Well, was it convincing?" Sherlock asked suddenly standing infront of John.

"Was what convincing, and what the hell was all that bloody noise about?" he demanded. "Actually no don't tell me I don't want to know."

"Well-" Sherlock began before John cut him off.

"No. I said I don't want to know."

"I'm afraid you have no choice John. You have to know what I was doing because I need your help."

"You? You need my help?" John asked sceptically.

"Yes."

"With what?"

"I need you to bind my injury," he answered.

"What injury?" John asked.

"I don't know yet. I'm thinking maybe my arm, or possibly my head I could really do without my arms being restricted in anyway. Yes I think head is the best option," he said thoughtfully.

"What are you talking about?" John asked wearily accepting he was becoming a part of this wither he liked it or not.

"You were an army doctor, so this should be no problem to you. I need you to bandage my head as you would with someone with a moderate head injury. Then I need you to refer me to a Doctor Jamie Wallace for further tests. Even you should be able to handle this John given that there isn't actually any injury to treat.

"A referral from a doctor can take weeks to process, which i'm assuming is too long if you are wanting me to dress this now," John pointed out.

"Going through the normal channels yes, but if you write the letter and sign it then I can take it to his office and I will get to see him eventually. After all I have a letter from my doctor and a visibly dressed head wound," Sherlock said sounding extremely pleased with himself.

"Are you going to tell me what this case is about and why you so desprately need to speak to this doctor?" John asked as he sat beside Sherlock with a roll of bandages and tape infront of him.

"I believe our Doctor is not really a doctor but a clichéd front for drugs where the majority of his patients are clients. A simple enough case but it's been a slow week and I need a way in," Sherlock said motioning for John to begin.

"Can't believe i'm doing this," John muttered as he began to bandage Sherlock's non existent wound.

"No, not like that you're doing it wrong, it should be more over to the side," Sherlock protested ripping the bandages off for the third time.

"Sherlock, would you stop doing that! How can I be doing it wrong there isn't even a wound there so it doesn't matter exactly where the bandages sit," John said through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure injury was the reason you left military service?" Sherlock enquired.

"What?" John asked furiously as Sherlock pushed his patience to the limit.

"Well I mean the military is all about perfection and if you are apparently happy to settle for 'close enough' well I don't think that is a mindset that sits too well in the army, am I right?" Sherlock asked handing John the bandages to try again.

"You really are an arsehole you know that," John said bitterly.

"I know," Sherlock agreed.

John sighed and began bandaging again. As he worked he was reminded of why Sherlock so often got hurt when he was working. "There how's that? Too bad if you don't like it we're out of bandages," John said as he tied it off.

Sherlock chuckled slightly then looked in the mirror. "I suppose it will do, lets go," he said reaching for his jacket.

"You want me to come?" John asked.

"Obviously, hurry up," Sherlock said heading towards the door leaving John to follow, which he did after checking he had a spare roll of bandages for when they got back he had a feeling Sherlock was going to need them.


End file.
